Lightweight
by Pebblemist is Hamiltrash
Summary: I'm a lightweight, better be careful what you say, with every word I'm blown away. You're in control of my heart. I'm a lightweight, easy to fall, easy to break, with every move my whole world shakes. Keep me from falling apart


_Light on my heart, light on my feet_

_Light in your eyes, I can't even speak_

_Do you even know how you make me weak?_

_I'm a lightweight,_

_Better be careful what you say._

_With every word I'm blown away,_

_You're in control of my heart._

_I'm a lightweight,_

_Easy to fall, easy to break,_

_With every move my whole world shakes,_

_Keep me from falling apart..._

* * *

_~~~ Lightweight ~~~ Demi Lovato ~~~ Unbroken, 2011 ~~~_

* * *

"Hey, Riley."

It's just about the simplest greeting ever. Nothing special, not compared to how other high school students greeted their boyfriends or girlfriends. Among the flirtatious and sometimes flat out cheesy greetings that filled the hallways, 'Hey Riley' didn't seem all that... I don't know how to describe it.

But somehow, when he says it, I feel as light as a feather, like the slightest little wind will sweep me off of my feet. It's an amazing feeling, but a dangerous one.

"Lucas!" I cry, loudly and undignified, raising my hand to wave to him and successfully earning some probably well-deserved glares from the students around me.

"Hand," the shorter blonde girl at my side reminds me.

I put my hand down. "Lucas!"

"Grown-up voice," Maya says.

I take a deep breath and put on my best serious face as I approach my boyfriend. "Lucas, hello."

He looks at me with those gorgeous green eyes of his and suddenly I feel insecure about my plain brown hair and brown eyes. Even my outfit- which consists of a simple (at least compared to some of my other outfits) spaghetti strap black dress with a pink flower pattern over a lightweight pink long-sleeved shirt- seems plain against the extravagant outfits the other girls wore. I'm almost seventeen and I'm still not even allowed to wear makeup.

I try to forget about those feelings as Lucas laughs and pulls me into a hug, and suddenly nothing else matters. I feel like I'm going to float away. It's been almost five years since our first date back at the end of seventh grade- we're juniors in high school now- and my knees still go weak when I'm with him.

"You look wow," he whispers, his breath tickling my ear. I feel my cheeks grow warmer, and I'm sure my face is as red as a cherry. My heart hammers in my chest, pounding louder than the snare drums in my band class, and my head spins.

_I look... wow? _It's a vague compliment, something any boy could say to a girl and not actually mean it. But the way he says it, the sincerity in his voice, is enough to make me believe he actually means it. But it's my first instinct to correct him, as if he's wrong.

"Thank you," I manage to say softly, suppressing a giggle. "But... I don't look _wow_."

Lucas stares at me like I've grown a second head. "I don't care what you think. You may not realize it, but to me you always look wow."

I open my mouth to reply, to tell him that I don't, but the sound of fake gagging reaches my ears and both of us turn to see Maya with her hands over her mouth.

"This real life, not some cheesy sitcom," she says, removing her hands from her lips and placing them on her hips. She brushes a stray strand of her natural, pale golden waves out of her face so that I can see the teasing glint in her sparkling ocean blue eyes. A smirk graces her features. "Stop acting like it.

"C'mon, before she actually throws up," Lucas says as we break away from each other. The bell signaling time to get to class rings, echoing through the corridors. Students around us begin to break apart, going off to their separate classes. By some sort of miracle, Maya, Farkle, Lucas, and I all ended up in the same first period this year- U.S. History. And get this; _my father _was able to move up to teaching at the high school level.

_Yay me._

Note the sarcasm there.

Lucas, being the gentleman that he is, holds the classroom door open for me. I smile at him, meeting his kind gaze, and the light dancing off of his brilliant green eyes make them sparkle like emeralds. Once again, I can't help but feel like I'm not good enough for him.

I don't have much time to dwell on the thought- he leads me to my desk and helps me with my books before he even thinks about his own things. He's such a gentleman, I don't know how anyone could _not _like him. He's perfect.

As I take a seat, I can't help but notice a certain girl in a pink sweater glaring at me. After five years and five hundred different boyfriends, it seems Missy Bradford still hasn't gotten over Lucas. Most girls in my situation would take satisfaction in that- I, on the other hand, almost felt bad for the girl. _Almost._

Farkle is already sitting in his usual seat behind me- he's always in class early these days. He flips his hair- which _still _hasn't changed since the first grade, and smiles at Maya and I.

"Ladies," he greets.

"Farkle," we say in unison. The tardy bell rings before we can even begin a conversation, and my father walks into the classroom. Class seems to pass in a flash, and as I grab my books and begin to leave, I can't help but grin like a little kid. It's an amazing day, who says I'm too old to enjoy it?

Lucas and I have to go our separate ways for second period, and he pecks my cheek before leaving. I sway on my feet- is this how Farkle feels every time Maya lets herself return his affection?- and I feel myself start to fall. Luckily, like any good best friend, Maya is there to catch me.

"Whoa there, Little Plant," she uses her old nickname for me, gently lifting me back to my feet.

I sigh dreamily. "He's amazing, isn't he?"

"Who?" Maya raises an eyebrow with a slight smirk. "Ranger Rick? Yeah, sure."

"When are you ever going to stop calling him that?" I ask her.

She shrugs. "I have to go, Riles. Art class's all the way across the school. Bye!" She turns and leaves before I can reply, her blonde head quickly disappearing into the sea of students. I sigh. How is it that, even in these crowded hallways, I manage to feel so alone? I continue to not understand anything.

I try my hardest to keep a smile on my face as I skip to the gym. Gym's never been my favorite class, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, and nothing is going to change that. I quickly change into my gym clothes and throw my hair into a messy ponytail. I wonder what we're doing today.

I bound out of the locker room, and the smile fades from my face as I see the coaches lining up rubber balls down the middle of the gym. My stomach drops.

Dodge ball.

Not something fun, like capture the flag or some other game. It just _had _to be dodge ball. I would rather run the _mile_ than play that God-forsaken game, and the mile is _not _fun. I actually like running, but not with the coaches screaming at you every ten seconds to run faster when you're about to pass out. That _kinda _sucks the fun out of it, don't you think?

Dodge ball, on the other hand, has absolutely no fun qualities for the coaches to suck out of it. There is _nothing _remotely fun about having rubber balls pelted at your head, especially during the games when they mix the boys and girls. It's one thing when it's just girls against girls, most of them can't throw to save their lives. The boys act like it's an Olympic sport, and I guess to them it is.

At any rate, no matter who you're playing against, dodge ball is the worst game in existence, and I seem to be the only one who realizes that. I'm the only one complaining in a chorus of "Yays" and "Awesomes!"

I press my palms against the wall as the game starts, scowling at the line of dodge balls in front of me. The girls around me giggle and talk about how awesome this game is. All I can think about is how much this game resembles the Hunger Games.

Tell me I'm wrong, at least about the beginning, with everyone running out to get the weapons and stuff. You can't, right?

Coach Gleason blows the whistle with all of his might, and the sharp sound rings in my ears and echoes through the gym. Everyone surges forward, and before I know it, everyone has a ball except for me. There's one I see out of the corner of my eye. It's all the way across the court, but If I can get to it before everyone starts throwing, I can at least say I _tried_ to play before I get out.

I take off down the court, sure that I'm the only one who intends to get that ball. Unfortunately, I'm wrong. Someone else on the other team has seen it too.

Missy Bradford.

She gets to it first. She throws it, and it whizzes past my head. I smile for the first time since I saw we were playing this stupid game.

"Missy, the whole point of this game is to actually _hit _people with the ball," I inform her, feeling the confidence surging through me. It's almost a strange feeling. A powerful, but strange feeling. I'm used to Maya doing all of the standing up for me. Is this how she feels? I'm almost jealous. I like this feeling.

Missy scowls at me. "Very funny. And yet I don't see you even _trying _to play the game."

... She has a good point, but I'm not about to let her know that. Someone on Missy's team throws a ball at me, and by some odd stroke of luck, I'm actually able to catch it.

Missy freezes, her eyes wide. As gently as I can, I throw the ball at her. She doesn't move fast enough, and it hits her in the arm. She glares at me and retreats to the other side of the gym, where the people who are out go.

I smile. For once, I'm actually enjoying this game. In the first round, I'm one of the last people to get out. Second round, I don't get out at all. Third round, I get out pretty quickly, but by then I'm in a pretty good mood and I don't let having to play this stupid game spoil it.

The fourth round begins as the whistle blow. It's only a few minutes before we have to go in and get dressed, and I'm surprised we're even starting another round. There's really no point, but oh well.

I quickly step to the side to avoid being blasted in the head. I narrowly escape being struck in the stomach. Someone on my team gets Missy out. _Good_, I think. _There's one less person I have to worry about._

I'm not invincible. I know that. But for some reason I'm disappointed when I feel the sting of a ball striking me in the middle of my back. I double over, trying to regain my balance before I fall over. A cry of pain escapes my lips.

"You're out!" an annoyingly snotty voice calls out. I turn and glare at Missy, who has her hands on her hips as if I'm doing something wrong. I know I should ignore her but what little pride I have still intact, I don't. I just fuel the fire.

"Oh, really?" I ask her coldly. "I didn't know."

I sprint over to the out box without giving her a chance to answer, but I never make it there. To avoid getting hit again- _what part of '_I'm out' _is so hard for people to understand?- _I run to the side so that I can get to the other side of the court.

I dart behind someone who is in my way to avoid getting trampled, but she doesn't have eyes in the back of her head to see me with, and steps back to catch a ball, unaware of my existence. I'm not paying enough attention to where I'm going, and my foot lodges under hers. Before I can think, I'm on the ground, the wind knocked out of me and my knees probably bruised for a while. I yelp in pain.

I try to lift myself up, but the combination of my lack of upper body strength and the fact that I can't seem to get enough air into my body makes it sort of impossible, and I fall to the ground before I'm even fully off of it, feeling defeated.

The game continues on, and nobody seems to notice the girl lying in a heap in the middle of the floor. I gather my strength and stand up. My legs are shaking but at least I can stay upright again. Luckily for me, the coach blows the whistle and it's time to go back to the locker rooms.

I lean on the wall while everybody else goes in, collecting my thoughts and catching my breath. I'm about to go in when I feel someone tap on my shoulder.

"What do you want, Missy?" I ask before I even turn around. I turn and there she is, a sickeningly sweet smile on her lips.

"Everyone saw you fall," Missy says sweetly. "It was quite hilarious, if you ask me. The way you yelped like a licked puppy and all... must be _so _embarrassing. Although," she smirks, "you've done _much _worse in front of your little boyfriend Lucas before. It's a wonder he still pretends to like you."

_Pretends? _I narrow my eyes. "... what do you mean?"

"I mean, Lucas is _way _out of your league, don't you think?" Missy continues, her eyes sparkling. "It's so incredibly _obvious _he doesn't really care about you like he says he does. None of your friends do, not even that blonde bodyguard of yours."

I stare at her, trying to find my voice. "That's... that's not true," I say, my voice coming out softer than I would have liked. "Maya is my best friend, and Lucas, he's... he's..."

I try to correct her, but I can't. My insecurities are getting stronger and won't allow me to. I don't want to believe what she's saying, I really don't, but... I just don't know.

Missy smirks, brushing a strand of her long brown hair out of her face. Her brown eyes are sparkling evilly. "The truth hurts, doesn't it, Riley?"

I open my mouth to reply, but no words come out. It doesn't matter, anyways. She's already out of earshot, and even if she could hear me, I doubt she would even care.

Shaking a little too much for my taste, I change back into my close and let my hair down from the ponytail. This time, I don't have a smile on my face. I feel like I'll never smile again. Maybe that sounds childish and over-dramatic, but right now I don't really care.

I'm the first person to leave the gym. The bell hasn't even rung yet, but none of the coaches notice when I slip out the door and run as far away from that terrible place as fast as I can. My knees feel weak, and as soon as I'm near my locker, I fall to the ground and curl up into a ball. I don't even have the strength to climb _into _the locker.

I don't know how long it is until the bell rings, but I don't even move when it does. And it's not like anyone cares. It's like I'm invisible. Nobody sees me, or if they do, they don't care enough to ask if I'm alright, why I'm curled up at the foot of the lockers bawling my eyes out.

At least, not until he sees me.

"Riley?" he asks tentatively. "Is that you?"

I know that voice. It's the voice that controls my heart, making it hammer in my chest whenever he's around. Every time he speaks, it's like I can hear angels singing. If there was wind in these hallways, I'd almost definitely get blown away.

But I don't respond. Missy's words echo in my head. "_I mean, Lucas_ _is _way_ out of your league, don't you think? It's so incredibly _obvious_ he doesn't really care about you like he says he does. None of your friends do."_

"Riley," Lucas repeats, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong? What's going on?"

"N-nothing," I manage to stammer out. It's obviously not nothing- Lucas isn't stupid- but it's the only thing I can think of.

"Riley," he says gently. "I'm here for you. You have to talk to me. Please?"

He pulls me close to him, and I look up. Light dances off of his emerald green eyes, and once again I start to feel insecure about my plain brown ones. He doesn't give me a chance to think about that, pecking my cheek. Feelings I've never known crash over me, and my heart pounds against my chest as if it's trying to get out.

I wipe a tear from my eyes, suddenly feeling childish for crying like a baby over something _Missy _of all people said. "Why do you care so much about me?" I ask. "Why... why do you even like me?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice. "Why wouldn't I care so much about you? You're you. And I don't like you, Riley. I love you."

The butterflies erupt in my stomach at his words. But what Missy said has still gone to my head. I need to know the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

"But... You're way out of my league," I whisper, and he stares at me like I've grown a second head.

"Riley, who is filling your head with these lies!?"

I just shake my head, burying my face into my hands. Lucas's hug becomes even tighter. I almost can't breathe.

"I'm serious, Riley," he says firmly, lifting my head so that I'm staring into his wide, concerned green eyes. "Who is telling you all of this?"

I look down. "...Missy. It was Missy... she-she said a lot of nasty things..." tears stream down my face as I explain to him what happened in gym. I can't_ not_ tell him anymore. I need someone to vent to, and he's the best listener I know.

It's at the end of my story when the bell rings. I don't even give him a chance to move, taking hold of his hand. "Don't leave me.." I breath. "I..I need you..." I dissolve into a mess of tears. My whole world is shaking. I feel like I'm about to fall apart.

"I wouldn't even think about leaving you Riley," he strokes my back soothingly, his words gentle and soft, but nonetheless sincere. "I've got you, I'm not leaving your side. I won't let you go, I promise."

Those words mean everything to me. I have no choice but to believe him. And this time, I can forget my insecurities. I have a safe place to fall. It seems way too good to be true, but I know it is.

* * *

_THE__ END_


End file.
